crazy 
        dance holiness
        by Hezekiah 
        Allen Taylor  
        this morning I watched
          the pale yellow light play
          on the pale yellow wall
          
          a maple tree, tiny
          reflected there in negative space
          
          blowing and dancing
          in the first wind
          of an approaching storm
          
          the interplay
          the give and take
          reminenscent,
          of you and me
          
          symbolic, you'd say
          
          you the light
          me, the shadow
          (I know. I've compared you
          to the light before.
          I really can't come up
          with anything fucking new.)
          
          together in movement
          separated by a single, thin
          dark line that says "this is"
          "this is not"
          
          it reminds me
          of how I suddenly feel
          
          how I didn't know
          the outline before,
          never knew the separation
          
          and then the light appeared
          
          and now I'll know forever
          the distinction---
          which is both good
          and bad for me,
          which makes me so very aware
          and, yet, also makes me
          so lonely, sometimes
          
          because I want to be
          in the light with you
          
          but, still
          there's that line
          that goddamn
          permanent
          forever
          sort of
          line
         Francine's 
          Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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